, 1887-06-03

filed n pipe and too his seat as usual be-
fore the fire where his eyes could rest on
his own landscape. Every now and then
he would get up walk about uncertainty,
then turn TO tho picture and look closcir
at ONT portion of 1t, while his hand per
formed q curious caressinS movement, ~
" he loved the canvas. Then he woulI
recollect himself and sit down prccipitately
and for ten minutes keep his eyes away.
Gradually, however, they would return 20
the painting, IL he would become alb
sorbed IN q train OF thought, whether
happy or painful 1 could not tell, having
this canvas, or something that 1t Jug
gcsted, for the pivot round which it turned.
One of uengy's charms was just Euch
an unconscious act as this, done while he
was thinking himself completely unrcada-
BILE, and yet an acepatent to the ncanest
understanding. Perhaps 1t 1attered oue's
generosity, for It seemed to put him at a
disadvantage US q child might be placed,
and his weakness called out your forbear-
ance md protection. Or it was more sinis-
ter, like the movements Of o snake trying
to conceal itself in q scanty thicket which
hid the cold small eyes and 1.-the neck, but
left to the light o differing loop here, a
smooth, scaled tail thcro.
This night he was in O communicative,
almost a garrulous, mood, and by some
now forgotten train of talk hit upon a
curious story Of n brother artist-why
thereon l did not realize until, on review
ing 1t, there seemed to DO O moral in it,
or, at my rate, an indication in tho direc-
ton of that hobby Of his, tho church In
which he was educated. hat might ao-
count for his having begun to tell it to
me. Certainly not a blnmeworthy thing
after all, for this odd proselyting spirit
seemed the most genuine sentiment in a
character almost entirely given over TO
the worship of self.
1 did not pay much attention to what he
was saying at first, because 1t was In 70
gard to artists who stole his ideas, and on
that topic l had enjoyed q varied assort-
ment of stories, some of which had a foun-
dation in fact; tho most of them, however,
were rank fables. But when he began to
talk about an artist who was q Catholic 1
began to prick up my ears. Is ho, 1
vaguely pondercd, about to perform one
OF his fents of concealment and reveal
himself to me under the chiidlike belief
TINT he hns put mo quite OF the scentf 1
watched him In the freight and noted the
pallor of his long face, a countenunce not
unlike those ugly but attractive men at
the court Of Queen Elizabeth, narrow
faced, long jnwed, weak in one way,
strong In another. His long forehnger
reached up beside his lean cheek and hol-
low temples till 1t was lost in his hair and
a great elf lock of the latter fell on his
gaunt wrist, Somber eyes gazod raptly
in the Goals and between the ohokcd
pauses tho words came thick and quick.
An idea struck me suddenly. Not any
longer a practical Catholic, was the need
of confessing himself working within, and
causing him to tell me, his acquaintance,
what he ought to have told to some whom
ho considered commissioned by heaven to
hear himi
''There was e fellow student of mine"
he said, in sentences interrupted by papses
Of which he took no heed, "who had an
order from a church to paint a Madonna.
1t was the occasion of his life, for he had
lived hitherto in n grim fight with starva-
ton, having been too proud to apply to
his relatives for belp in his distress. Money
WINS given him to buy materials and hire
models; he went away for a week into the
country to be absolutely alone, and finding
that the country was less lonely than the
town, returned and did little but haunt
the churches. He was o good Catholic
then and complied with all the regulations
of the church. At lnst-the idea he
sought came to him-but not at church.
Oh, no, not while good thoughts wsr0 In
his mind-but at the opera while a ballet
was being performed. He had gone there,
so he told me, to escape from the pressure
Ol worry over JnlS picture. Cnunce nnu
it that among the crowd on the stage per-
forming n part in the chorus after a fashion
was a face which, II not in all respects
fitted for q Madonna, was to the artists
eye perfect as o model That feature
changed a bit, the other enlarGed-and
there was the Queen of Heaven, like and
yet unlike the type handed down with all
the imposing traditions Of ItslyI My
friend was wild nth delight. lie be-
sieged the box Office and guarded the exit
from tho stage. At last his di-inity ap-
peared, shabby, demure, angered at his
impetuous address, but at last moniGed,
interested, appeased, and In fine persuaded
TO como to his studio the following day.
"Sho was o young, she was O lovely, she
was n virtuous girl from the country, whom
a series of cruel disasters had thrown on
her own resources, and 1t was not long be-
fore my friend came to value, admire, to
love her in his own way-not u good way,
it seems-and give her plainly to know his
feelings. The folly Of it will not be real
lied by you who are not an artist, for If
there IS one thing moro insane than another
1t is for an artist to think Of his model In
any but a severely professional way.
However, my friend was young and fool
ish; he was very, very lonely; and so was
she. They lunched together, walked to-
gether, read together. He taught her, so
he thought, to be q Christian, for she had
belonged to some queer sect or other that
protests against Professionals, such as our
country abounds in. The Madonna was
almost, nay, It was quite finished when
what might have been foretold occurred.
There was a week of bliss, a month Of
agony, and one morning her hat and veil
were found on a pier. Tie great river, In
whose bHbbling springs abe had dabbled
her childish feet, took her to its bosom,
away from the ~unkindness, the vileness
OF mankind"
Brown had brought tho lean, long hand
before his face, but l caught the glitter OF
moisture on his cheek and his voice was
husky.
"And the Madonna IL nowf'
"Gone. lie could nkVer bear to look At
It again. Taking his e,lors again after a
year had passed away he obliterated the
whole picture. Over that he painted a
view of the North river az one may see It
in winter at nightfal, when the ferry
boats crunch through floating ice and the
steamers chafe and groan at their moor
ings, when the air is full q sleet aud the
lights of vessels in midstream gaze at you
like the eyes Of baleful monsters. Oh,
what a fool that man wasl First TO allow
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